


Chloe liked Olivia

by damozel



Category: A Room of One's Own - Virginia Woolf, Virginia Woolf - Works
Genre: 1920s, Community: femslashex, F/F, Femslash, For Science!, Gift Fic, Modernist Writers, Radclyffe Hall, Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4969747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damozel/pseuds/damozel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen. Sometimes women do like women."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chloe liked Olivia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Violsva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/gifts).



‘Working hard are we?’ Chloe's voice was teasing as she pushed open the laboratory door and removed her white coat from the old wooden peg. She proceeded to put the coat on, buttoning it carefully so as to avoid creasing her smart new navy blouse from Caldicott’s.

‘Hard as I ever am,’ Olivia replied gaily, closing her novel and tossing it to one side. She was more dishevelled than her companion. Her mousy hair was pushed into loose loops, but many of the hairpins had missed the mark, resulting in a somewhat lumpy appearance. Her upturned nose was ringed with red; the result of a perpetual cold at this time of year. She had forgotten to put on her coat, again. 

‘Now, now,’ chided Chloe, coming over to her friend. ‘Do be careful. The library will be dreadfully cross if you spill chemicals on one of their books again. Just think of that frightful old dragon behind the counter at Balham when you return it with a bright red stain.’

Olivia always enjoyed Chloe’s wicked sense of humour.

‘Anything good?’ Chloe asked, glancing over at the book. The older woman smoothed down her sleek bob – and the woollen, mannish trousers that had caused all the difficulty with Mr Forbes – before sliding onto the wooden bench beside Olivia.

‘ _Life’s Adventure_ by one Mary Carmicheal. Not made up my mind yet. It’s the first of hers I’ve found.’

‘Oh yes?’ 

‘I like her style. And there are no Rogers, which is always a good sign. Then it remains to be seen if Sir Chartres Biron is lurking behind the curtains.’

‘Isn't he always?' Chloe twisted her lip. 'I suppose you could do better?’

‘Of course, my darling.’ Olivia grinned and arched her spine, leaning backwards so that she teetered precariously at the edge of the bench. ‘I intend to dedicate my life to my art. Just as soon as I’ve minced this liver.’ 

‘That’s your trouble my dear,’ Chloe replied, her grin matching Olivia’s. ‘You’re simply not _dedicated_ to science.’

‘We’re all different don’t you know.’ Olivia affected a pout. ‘The wonder and marvel of creation in all its glorious hues. One day they’ll come a writer who sees it properly. The world of women as it really is.’

‘ _One day_ ,’ echoed Chloe under her breath. ‘She'll have awful bother about it from the censors when she does. I suppose you’ve heard the news about Miss Hall?’

‘Indeed, they’re hashing it out at the Old Bailey today. Reg made some foolish comment about it this morning, his nose stuck in the _Express_.’ Olivia pulled her face into an expression of prudish disdain. ‘Mrs Woolf will go along, but I don’t suppose they’ll let her speak. The old prigs will ban that book as soon as look at it.’ She exhaled theatrically and swung her legs around so that she was sitting the opposite way out to Chloe. Their shoulders remained pressed together.

‘A few of us have got a petition up. Thinking of going down there this evening. Will you come along?’

‘I’ll sign, but then I must get back for the children.’ A dark shadow danced across Olivia's face as her thumb lingered momentarily on her wedding band. ‘The mother in law is upset enough about me coming out here to work. Can’t be getting back late as well. Trains down south have been delayed all week.’ 

There was a pause of some moments.

‘Of course Radclyffe has done something frightfully bad.’ Chloe’s remark was intended to lighten the mood as she turned herself about, now facing the same way as Olivia. 

‘Frightful indeed. I could barely get through forty pages of that dry, moralising stuff. A bit more zest is what’s needed.’

Both women laughed out loud. 

‘So how would you write _The Well of Loneliness_?’

‘I’d change that awful, depressing title for a start,’ Olivia began. ‘Something like _The Tub of Contentment_ ,’ she continued with a wicked smile, warming to her theme. ‘And I’d put in a bit more _proper description_. How it looks. How it feels.’

‘You'd run into awful bother with the courts if you truly wrote all that.’

‘How it looks is quite, quite innocent. Like you just now. Fresh and smart as a pin, gathering the light morning air around you. Your style seems so natural that sometimes I believe your clothing is actually a second skin. I grow green with jealousy before I remember that you spend at least an hour in front of the glass before leaving the flat. Getting ready for the day. Getting ready for me.’

Chloe arched a brow, daring Olivia to go on. 

‘How it seems as if your body runs straight down, like a boy’s. Straight and true as a country lane. Of course when you unfasten your under-things it’s a different matter altogether.’

‘I can quite imagine how that looks to you.’ Chloe blushed in spite of herself. ‘Then I suppose the feelings are the hardest part to get down on paper?’

‘Oh yes,’ Olivia continued. ‘The trouble is all the distraction. When I see you arrive each morning I might take the time to compose a line or two in my head. But when you’re close enough to _feel_ the sentences become quite jumbled.’

‘Jumbled?’

‘Yes, the words won’t behave. Won’t stick to their proper order. Even the letters go awry. "B" runs ahead of "A" and before you know it "V" has pushed right to the head of the queue.’

‘Perhaps a scientific investigation is what’s required.’ Chloe was determined to keep up her end of the tease. She reached for a pile of papers as if she would begin a report there and then.

‘An experiment!’ Olivia exclaimed, gleeful.

‘Shush now, the conditions of serious empirical inquiry must be maintained at all times.’ Chloe's sharp, thin face was almost solemn. Only a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth betrayed the jest. ‘Now here’s what we’ll do. It’s quite simple really. I’ll touch you, then you tell me how it feels. We’ll write it down straight away afterwards so as to avoid any jumbling.’

Chloe took two fingers and ran them lightly around the outside of Olivia’s face, cupping briefly at the chin.

‘There, how was that?’

Olivia thought carefully before pronouncing. ‘Like the feel of a stale, wet kipper on a rainy Sunday morning in bed with Reginald.’

‘You utter beast!’ 

Chloe’s playful punch was accompanied by Olivia’s squeals of indignation. The younger woman almost lost her balance, almost tumbled to the floor, but Chloe caught her by the waist just in time. 

‘It seems we need to adjust the parameters of the investigation.’ Chloe tucked her short hair behind her ears, shuffled the papers, and cleared her throat in the most obnoxious manner possible. It was the perfect impression of Mr Forbes, the laboratory manager. ‘Now just you hold still young lady, and concentrate on what you’re doing. I’ll even warm my hands to avoid the wet kipper effect.’

‘God bless you sir.’ Olivia tilted her chin up obediently as she strained to suppress her laughter.

Chloe’s kiss was tentative at first. A timid exploration of Olivia’s pronounced lower lip. The younger woman responded like she always did, demanding more from her lover with urgent, noiseless words. Always the first one bold enough to run her tongue inside the other. Fingering the sheer, expensive fabric of the new navy blouse she ran her hands over Chloe’s tiny breasts. And down, down towards her slender narrow hips.

‘Now, now young miss. We must make a few notes before we can continue.’ Chloe adopted the sternest face she could muster as she pulled away. She reached for a pen. ‘Tell me, how _exactly_ did that feel?’

‘Jumbled.’

They collapsed into helpless laughter, knocking Forbes’ papers carelessly to the floor.

‘You know, perhaps I’m not cut out to be a writer after all,’ mused Olivia, her eyes sparkling. ‘All that bother of hiding what you really mean and dressing it up with flowery prose must be a terrible bore after the first chapter or two. I suppose Miss Hall is really terribly brave after all.' 

'I suppose that she is.' 

Chloe smiled indulgently. Olivia could never fix her mind on one idea for very long. She was too intelligent for that.

'I think I’m more inclined to be a woman of action than a woman of words,’ murmured Olivia as she stared dreamily out of the window.

The newspaper boys were long gone, but a few stray sheets of print littered the grimy pavements still. The city men too had vacated the streets, busying themselves for the day in the offices where money was gained and spent, gained and spent. An endless, futile cycle of repetition. A few early morning shoppers were out and about now. More motor cars pulling up. Chloe reached out to Olivia, Olivia reached out to Chloe. By lunchtime the streets would be busy again. They would struggle to find a place to eat; a quiet corner where they could have their talk. For now they had the laboratory.

A weak winter sun attempted to crawl up the sky and Olivia looked prettier than ever in the soft, pale light. It was painful. To think of her with those two little lumps of love on her lap. That ghastly man touching her in the narrow bed her parents had insisted on sending after the wedding. Chloe screwed her eyes up tight, pushing the hateful image away. Olivia rested her soft head beneath the firm jaw and pointed lazily upwards. The unusual trail of an aeroplane had piqued her interest. Fumes that resembled words. A note from one woman to another. A schoolgirl's hasty love-letter. Written on the wind. Disintegrating now. 

The 'plane flew away, bound for some distant land of sun. Room for more experiments yet. The day is young. 

A distant clock struck half past nine and the two were jolted to life. Forbes due any minute. Time to get to work. Only one reminder of the blissful morning; a battered library copy of Mary Carmichael's _Life's Adventure._ The scent of what could be. Chloe thought again how much she liked Olivia. Olivia, for the hundredth time, how much she loved Chloe.


End file.
